


Desperation

by AParisianShakespearean



Series: Dragon Age One Shots [25]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Pre Dragon Age Awakening, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 00:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16650724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParisianShakespearean/pseuds/AParisianShakespearean
Summary: Alistair and Emilia spend a night together before she must leave for Amaranthine.





	Desperation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tollofthebells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tollofthebells/gifts).



“You don’t have to go.”

She wondered when it would come to that, when he would tell her she didn’t have to go to Amaranthine. Of course he waited until they were alone in their room. She knew something was on his mind all night, had a suspicion it was this. He may have learned how to disguise his emotions and thoughts since becoming king to everyone else, but not to her.

“Alistair…” she mutters, stern. “You know I must.”

“Really,” he says, pulling her flush against the long line of his body. “You could stay here and—”

“And we’ll dance and dance, all night long yes,” Emilia replies, giggling before she props herself up. “You’re getting better at the Remigold.”

He eyes up and down her body. “I was thinking we could do more than the Remigold.”

“Oh. Is that so?”

He kisses her, once, twice, three times in response. They are soft and hard, gentle yet immediate and utterly needy. She travels to another world in the kiss, past melding with the present. She sees her reflection in the mirror that day not so long ago, long dark hair coiled. A white dress. There was warmth, there was him. He was waiting for her. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

That was their wedding. She recalls it as they touch and kiss. The day was beautiful, the night radiant. She recalls all their firsts and seconds and thirds. I’ll never leave you, she promised him one night under the stars after the Deep Roads. She missed the stars when she was in Orzammar. He made the dark there and in the Deep Roads not so dark. She promised him they wouldn’t part. She fully intended to keep her promise.

“You don’t have to go,” he says again.

She places her hand against his beating heart. “I never really leave, do I?”

He smirks. “They all say that in the books. You and I both know the reality is much, much better.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Her words are a honeyed promise, and a plea to make the time that they do have together last. Since their wedding they have found many uses for their bed, least of which having to do with sleep. The comforting down and softness of silk and plush a monumental improvement to the cold hard ground of their first and second and third and many more times. It doesn’t matter. It didn’t ever matter—their togetherness was always perfect, though the desperateness of their lovemaking lessened since the battle finished, lessened further since they were joined as husband and wife. When they were traveling there was always that imminent fear that any day could be their last, so each time together held a sacredness, even as they laughed and discovered together. No longer is there that fear. They can and have take their lovemaking in a different approach. Still is it wonderful and breathless and perfect, and Emilia thinks of those times as her nightgown falls to the floor. But when Alistair preludes their togetherness with a kiss, she is reminded of more desperate times, when every kiss was not only a kiss.

She thinks that is how it will be that night, and when Alistair kisses her, the kiss is not only a kiss. It’s never only a kiss, his hands grasping, touching, melding and worshiping. He is how she thought he would be tonight, desperate like before, but there is something else spoken but not spoken in the way that he touches her. It occurs to her when she moves him to his back, because she wants to touch him and worship him. It’s a plea.

His hands weave through the long and dark hair that spills on his chest. Her lips trail down his chest and further. He moans when she touches him and strokes him. It’s an intoxicating sound. As she touches gently he touches gently, reaching between her legs to her clit. They are both gentle at first, then harder and harder still until her ministrations stop as his fingers bring her over the edge. His long and nimble fingers have learned, she thinks idly as she collapses near him, boneless and floating. He smirks, quite, quite proud. For a moment they forget this is a goodbye.

She remembers again, as he remembers again when he presses his form on top of hers and captures from her lips another greedy and hungry kiss. He’s not inside her yet, but he is warm against her thigh, and he whispers pleas against her ear. _I love you. Don’t go to Amaranthine. I promised and you promised we would not part._

“Alistair,” her own voice mutters, breaking the spell of his sweet words. “What else can I do?”

“Stay here,” he says. “Stay.”

She reaches and touches the plains of his face, overwhelmed when their eyes meet. Her love. So many broken promises in his life. Must she break the promise?

“I have to make the world safe,” she says. “For you.”

Her legs part. He doesn’t take his time to ease inside. All at once he moves, long and hard. Just enough but she wants more. Fingers squeeze his arms before holding him closer. Legs coil around him as she peppers delicate kisses to his cheek. He makes love and possess and stops for a time to bring her another end with his mouth before beginning again. She welcomes the spill of him with a feverish kiss before he falls into her arms. It was like before after all. It was still perfect after all.

“Make the world safe,” he whispers. “But I swear woman, if you don’t come back…”

But she kisses him, and she makes a new promise. She will be back. Their after lovemaking kiss still tastes of desperation.


End file.
